His Dark Empress
by hel rae
Summary: '... then again, we're not that different from each other.' Seventeen oneshots about the Bad Girl and the Bad Boy. Max/Tara
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, people. And welcome to an album of oneshots containing MaRa, TaMax, or just simply Max/Tara. Feel free to write reviews (but please not flames), even criticism if you would like. I really want to enhance my literary skills since I've been slacking off again. I don't even think this first chapter is . . . well, good. But, anyway, I hope you would still enjoy. I promise I'd do better next time, and not . . . complicated like this. Another side note, I'm sorry about not updating _Incomplete Drawing_ but I've got myself a pretty good writer's block. I might update next week when all's not so busy, but I'm not promising. More notes down.**

**Hope you enjoy. :)**

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**His Dark Empress, Part I**

"**Empress"**

**By FrozenCreatures**

"_**Would you dare to love me?" - Shan Sa, 'Empress'**_

She was beautiful, dark . . . e_nchanting. _Everything he wanted to be, everything he wanted _her_ to be. Alluring in the most mysterious of ways, attractive unlike any other girl he has met and had a crush on, and, most importantly, a heart of rebelliousness. He wondered how she could be _so _natural at this, how she could retort to other people without stuttering, how she could fight older, stronger men without even flinching, how she could make even Godzilla cower in fear from her glare.

She was _awesome._

She could make any boy stop and stare, could make any girl jealous, but he knew it wasn't on purpose. It never was. Sure, she would start a fight for whatever purpose she deemed fit, and sure, she would snort and burp in a manner only boys do so just she can get into her parents' nerves. But, things that would only make her a - a woman, even for a small while? No, she didn't mean to do those things. To walk with her hips swaying, to clothe in skirts, leggings, boots, sleeveless shirts - even if it was in her favorite dark color? No, she didn't. These - and many other things he noticed about her - came only natural to her just like her mischievous and rebellious nature; not forced nor were they fake, it was just her.

And only _her._

There wasn't a time in the world where he wouldn't think about being with her, watching her, talking to her, laughing with her - anything that makes them close. It was strange having feelings such as these, feelings he knew all too well yet not quite fond of - after all, he was usually the player, **not** the person hurt. Well, there were times, but they were swift to fade, just like the pain after a hard tug of a bandage. But those moments he shared with her - those _oh so momentous moments _\- they were like the slow dragging of a knife against skin, pleasurable yet still painful. It haunted him day and night, almost like the scars of self-cutting though without blood, leaving him restless, drowning in both misery and joy.

But, nevertheless, it was exhilarating to be with her. He cherished every moment that he was with her, memorized every word she said to him, and mentally took down her behaviors and small mannerisms. Go ahead, call him creepy, but there was something that attracted him to her, like a moth to a flame, and he knew, right then, as he looked at those grey eyes of hers, what it was.

She was lonely, just like him.

Actually, he started to know about her loneliness a week ago, when he had entered the library, only to see her there reading a book, her eyes glued on it. Alone. With tears on her eyes. And a big red hand print on the side of her face. He walked away, never once returning to the accursed library. He hadn't looked for her after, afraid that she would lash out on him. So he avoided her, even almost to an extent of not going to school, because, he knew she saw him at that time.

It was only further confirmed that he was right. Her grey eyes were cold and yet its glare was smoldering, keeping him frozen in his place. Her hands clenched on the collar of his shirt, her knuckles white and trembling. Her lips were in a deep frown, chapped and obviously bruised; he wondered if she bit them out of frustration or of contemplation. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, avoiding her gaze.

'Hey, T,' he weakly greeted.

'Don't "hey, T" me,' she snapped, her clutch tightening even more. 'You've got a lot of nerve not coming to school, _Thunderman._' Her glare faltered slightly but was back again before he even noticed. Her voice was high yet not annoying, the type of voice that could be great at singing.

He raised his hands in defense, ignoring how her breath landed on his collarbone, warm and all. 'Hey, I've had a flu. I don't want to infect anyone,' he lied. He wasn't a good liar, he knows, but it was worth a shot. Her eyes narrowed a bit more before it dulled. Oh yeah, first rule he learned: _never_ lie to her.

'Oh, sure, a flu,' she said monotonously, her hands loose yet still holding the part of his shirt. 'What, I daresay, caused you to have such kind of disease, oh good sir?' He wanted her to stop talking in her classy demeanor - her speaking automatic was one thing, but this . . _this_ was a whole new level of frustration and anger he feared crossing.

Unfortunately, he just had. She usually just used this tone and words to mock her parents, but it seems that she also used this as a warning.

'Was it because of the rain last Monday? Or was it from the stress you got from the big test yesterday?' she sneered. He flinched. Then her eyes widened, and her lips slightly parted mockingly. 'Oh, wait a minute. I know now. It wasn't a flu, isn't it?' Her laugh was bitter, like the black coffee she would order in their occasional small tours around the city of Hiddensville. 'It was _disgust._ Disgust of what? _Disgust _of seeing me _cry? Disgust_ of seeing me _read? _What, Max? What?!'

The bell had rung mid-sentence, and he was glad that there was no one but them there. Her voice echoed faintly, bouncing off of the walls, attacking him with every sound it made. Her voice wasn't at all the loudest, but he thanked the school for having an old version of soundproof walls when she all but shouted. He looked at her, and was surprised by the amount of emotions she openly showed. Pain. Anger. Frustration. Hurt.

He put a hand on top of hers, and she stiffened, before she swatted his hand away, her hands now falling down to her sides. Her eyes lost their glare, and her voice lost their cruelness when she spoke again. 'Was it really that humiliating that you avoided me?'

Max concluded that he didn't like seeing her like this. At all. She was supposed to be strong and fearless, not unsure and scared. This scared him a little, until he found a dark purplish mark on the side of her neck. It was small, faint, but it was noticeable, even under the collar of her jacket that tried in vain to hide it. He raised a hand to touch it, and it felt cold against his skin. 'What happened?'

At that question, Tara's usual flare finally made way to her eyes, and she defiantly tilted her head up, a smirk subconsciously making its way to her lips. 'None of your business, Thunderman. You still have a question to answer,' she said. She held his hand but did nothing to remove it. She was looking at him intently, her grey eyes searching his face for any signs of mischief. But as it is, like any other time she looked, she found nothing. Just . . . Worry.

And . . .

Her eyes narrowed, but it was not a glare. It was only irritation, as it was also sudden realization. She growled. 'Max, please tell me it's not true.' Her voice held warning, devoid of anything but that. He couldn't be serious! She knew of his feelings but she hadn't thought about it really. 'Please don't tell me you like me too.'

Shoot! His eyes frantically scanned the room for any possible escape, but the weight of her gaze was strong. Max's heart pounded strong against his ribs that he swore he could hear it. A lie was forming on the tip of his tongue, but he stood there silent. When he did speak, his voice was tight and dry, reluctant. 'S - Sorry.'

She frowned. 'You're not denying?'

Max coughed rather nervously, a blush starting to form on his cheeks. 'Why should I?'

She groaned angrily, the sound so fierce. 'I don't need your feelings - heck, I don't need anyone's feelings. Why is that so hard to understand?!' She asked, flailing her hands in the air. Then she looked at him, and pointed at him with a finger threateningly. 'Please, _please_, tell me you do not like me.'

It wasn't by the stance nor the look in her eyes that made her angry; it was her string of words, stabbing him in the most painful of ways. He glared at her before grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. 'Are you out of your mind?!' he all but shouted, his hazel eyes looking at her stone-cold ones. But when her glare didn't falter, he bit his tongue in frustration as he released her. 'Fine. I don't like you. And I would never again like you.' He took a breath. 'But don't think that I wouldn't stop worrying about you.'

She took a step forward, almost leaning that any more and their chests would have touched. But then she yielded, her eyes snapping to their normal size. Surprise filtered her veins and she was momentarily loss at words. He just . . .

'Wait,' her voice said softly, just before he could move towards the school's exit. She knew this was a bad idea. She knew that he would find her revolting to ask it just after they fought. But, ultimately, she knew she was, at that time, twisted, like her parents. A thought that she finds quite disturbing yet not unfamiliar.

He glanced at her, his expression still angry. Tara hesitated, before shaking the feeling away. 'Do you . . .' she paused, feeling the fluttering feeling inside her stomach. She coughed. 'Do you really like me?' The question was a redundant; no, a redundant of a redundant. It was a habit of hers whenever she wanted a direct confirmation or wanted to make a point. She just wanted to confirm. Really.

He was frozen still then, expression hard to decipher. His clenched fist has slackened, falling to his side limply. Then, all of a sudden, he turned around to face her, his lips curved in a sad smile. Tara wanted to frown, she really did, but the smile he wore didn't suit him. His relaxed smile and contagious laughter was better. Far more better.

'You know, I would've been shocked if you weren't the one asking,' he said, almost teasing, but still so weary. The Campbelle didn't feel offended, not even the slightest, but she knew better than to change the topic and press on his answer quickly. After a pause - he had thought she would intervene - he added, 'Then again, you aren't anyone else _but_ you.'

She blinked, confused, but shook her head, strands of ginger hair falling down between her eyes. She tucked it unconsciously behind an ear, then sighed. 'Max,' she whispered, almost whining, a smile gracing her features. She stopped speaking, and placed a hand on her left temple, feeling a shot of pain course through her head. Okay, fine, maybe she could press on the matter. 'Please.'

He chuckled at her, the sorrow, uncertainty and embarrassment obvious in his voice. 'You know, I've never been the kind of guy with a lot of vocabulary or knows a lot about history and math. But if I would take studying a bit more seriously, I might just be able to get into any university,' there was something in his voice when he said the word "university" that made her wonder curiously, but before she could ask, he continued, 'Heck, I could even be a very well-known supe - I mean, a very well-known professor if I wanted to.'

. . .

'But you,' he paused, then chuckled again. 'You're really such a complicated subject . . .' Max looked at her, his brown eyes shimmering, although only slightly. Tara felt a knot twist in her throat. 'I love you, y'know. Always have and will continue to.'

Those were the words that broke her, _over _and _over_ again. _**I love you. I love you. I love you.**_

_**Always have and will continue to.**_

He had just voiced his feelings to her, loud and clear. But it was sad, crying almost. He smiled at her again, his lips quivering. 'Max,' Tara started. 'I . . .'

What was she supposed to say now? That she was sorry - sorry that cannot she cannot reciprocate his feelings? Or would she just turn her heel and leave him there, acting like nothing happened? Those were her two instinctual responses to confessions she received from teenage boys.

Then again, Max wasn't just a teenage boy. No, he was just _Max._

She wasn't good with emotions, never had understood what love meant. But she knew when she was _in_ love or just adored someone. She made a decision.

The Campbelle looked at the younger teen before her, her eyes boring into his. She had a sudden urge to nip on her lip again, but she knew that any more biting would cause it to bleed. Instead, she licked her lips, then drawled. 'Would you . . .' she paused, then sucked a breath through her teeth. 'Would you dare to love me . . . and let me learn to love you?'

The air stilled around them. The Thunderman twin looked at Tara in surprise, then it softened. 'If you would, then yes.' His voice was still held the same emotions as before, but there was something else. Hope. It cracked through his deflated voice like a bullet. Tara smiled a little.

She took a step forward and opened her mouth, but her words had yet to come when the bell rung. Tara scowled at the impending timing, but nevertheless accepted. She peered at the freshman, her lips pursed in interest. 'Max?'

The said male looked at her, then flashed a smile. He walked towards her, and closed their distance as he grasped her hand, his grip firm yet gentle. 'Any suggestion where we should go, my dark empress?' Then, they ran.

Sneak out school? Heh, why not? After all they already cut a class due to their talk. She tried hard to contain the jittery feeling inside her stomach once she remembered him calling her _"my dark empress". _She would ask him about the obvious endearment later, right now she would just let things go with the flow. She smirked and squeezed his hand, her strides long as it tried to match the quicker male. 'Any where's good.'

_**Would you dare to . . . let me learn to love you?**_

Her question plagued her thoughts and she seriously wanted him to answer her clearly. But, looking at his face light with his usual cheerfulness, she didn't need to ask. One look and she already knew.

He accepted her dares even moments before they officially met.

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**A/N: Yeah, I know, suckish attempt to do a oneshot. I'm deciding whether I should connect the shots to one another or just let them be. Anyway, also you could give me the theme for the next shots, if you'd like. And just like the note up, if you're confused just tell me. :) Bye, guys.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Oh my! It's almost two months! I'm really sorry guys, it's just, well, school had eaten me alive and personal matters needed to be checked up on. I'm sooooo sorry again! Please forgive me! ... Okay, so I don't know what happened in this chapter but ****I still hope you enjoy this second one-shot as much as the first one, and thanks to _TinyPiecesOfMyHeart_ for the theme and I'm super sorry it took so long. Hehe. So, anyway, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything.**

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**His Dark Empress, Part II**

**"Hurt"**

**By FrozenCreatures**

**"Among my stillness was a pounding heart." - Shannon A. Thompson, _Seconds Before Sunrise_**

* * *

'I don't know pain.' That's what she says to the people all the time. And, yeah, maybe it is true - and oh, how very very true. I've heard a lot of rumors about her the first three to for months I've been in Hidden High. Rumors about how a girl (at that point, I've never really seen or knew her, so, yeah) beat up the strongest guy (or self-proclaimed anyway) with only her fists without flinching. Rumors about her surviving a high fall as she slipped down the long stairway in their home once. Rumors about her time in juvie, a result from being in a fight and supposedly started it.

Do I believe this rumors?

Yes, yes I do. She even has scars to prove it.

'I don't know pain.' That's what I always hear. That's what I do believe. But then . . .

'I don't know pain, Max.'

Why does it seem like she's lying?

'Really?' I asked her, crossing my arms in front of me, mouth quirked into a smirk (or, I hope so anyway). 'The last time I remembered, only robots don't know pain. And you're not a robot.'

She rolled her eyes. 'Your really don't get it, do you?'

'Get what?'

She bit her bottom lip. I looked away. And coughed. 'Get what?' I repeated, acting normal as if I didn't see anything that's making hormones haywire.

She stopped and so did I. I turned around and looked at her. Her arms were quivering as if cold but there was an intensity in her glare when I reached out and tried to take off my jacket for her. 'Max,' she started. 'Stop this . . . whatever _this_ is you're doing.'

A breath hitched in my throat and my heart paused from beating for a tiny second before it returned. I cocked my head to the side. 'What?'

She shook her head. 'Look, Max, you're kind and all but your kindness won't help me.' When I said nothing, she shook her head again and flailed her arms in resignation. 'Just, please. Stay away from me and don't talk to me.'

With that, she walked away.

And I stood there, trying not to acknowledge the hurt gnawing inside.

* * *

_'I don't know pain.'_

_I now wonder if she was referring to the pain inflicted to her or the pain she inflected to the people around her. It's getting kinda hard to tell._

* * *

'Dude! Did you hear?'

Murmurs.

'And I was like, 'oh my God, is it real?' and she was like . . .'

More murmurs.

'No, no, Officer. I assure you that you won't see her again.'

Murmurs.

I ignored them all. Two more corridors to pass until Science Class. Two . . . more . . . corridors . . .

'Phoebs!' came a high-pitched voice. I didn't stop to look at Cherry as she ran beside my sister. 'Did you hear?'

'About what?' I can hear my sister ask. 'No one's telling me about what happened.'

I heard Cherry let out a giggle. 'You won't believe this but I swear, you'll freak out!'

'Come on, Cher, tell!'

A pause. I tried not to let them notice the slowness in my steps. I silently seethed. What the hell am I doing?!

But I couldn't help but listen.

'So, I came home last night and checked in my Feeds and there was this news about . . . umm, what's the name? But anyway, check this,' I can here the shuffling of the bag from where I was and it took all the will not to turn and join them.

A shuddering stop and I know something was wrong. I felt a hand grip my shoulder and I tried to suppress from meeting my sister's obvious stare. 'Max, it's-'

. . .

I hadn't noticed I was running until now.

* * *

'What the hell were you thinking?'

I can almost feel my bones break and my lungs explode when I finally found her. She was leaning on the rail guard, her back to me, as she watched the whole of city. She didn't turn around and look at me when she talked, and it angered me a little.

'How'd you find me?'

I walked to her side, setting my elbows on top of the metal fence. 'You're the only person I know whose motorcycle leaves "roses" as tire tracks,' I replied, looking at the black beauty parked a little ways to my left. 'And besides, this is the only place I know you would go to for solitude and quiet.'

She stayed silent and I glanced at her and bit back my disappointment when I found her eyes clear and cheeks not streaked with tears. It made her statement grow more and more true. And I _hate_ it. I looked at the city again.

A fast shift down and I squinted my eyes. Nothing in Hiddenville came down that fast, not even Dad. It was white and quick, dots of blue and red on the front, and it stopped on the large blue house on the east of the city. The building . . . it was familiar somehow. I furrowed my eyebrows. Where did I see that house? Umm, erm . . . Ugh, _darnit!_

'There like ants up here,' I heard her murmur. 'So small and tiny and puny and . . . little.'

I chuckled softly. 'Yeah, of course they are.' I looked at the ground and waved my hand, levitating small rocks with only small amount of energy, enough for it to lift a few inches but without Tara noticing.

I can hear her click her tongue. I smiled. But then . . .

'Why did you do it?' I asked again as I looked at her. Her dark golden hair was a curtain but I know her - her small habits, her mannerisms. She crooked both her index fingers, grating the metal fence with her nails. _Nervous. _'Why did you steal all those things?'

'Isn't it obvious?' she said with a weary tone. I narrowed my eyes slightly. 'To steal for fun!'

I clenched my hands into fists. 'Don't say that. You know it's not true. You're not like that, T! Doing things 'cause you just want to do them. Hell, that's not you at all! I know you're not like that and I know that this - whatever _this _is, is affecting you!' I said. 'So don't you dare say it's just "for fun".'

We didn't say anything after that for a long while. I just looked at her and she just stared at the city. The wind blew and her hair swayed. And even if it was just for a moment, I saw face, her lips swollen and the sides of her eyes were crinkled. My glare softened.

'Doesn't it hurt you?' I asked, placing my hand on her shoulder. She tensed. 'Doesn't it hurt you that people think you're unkind and rude and unsympathetic or . . ." I swallowed the last word that came to my thought. _Inhuman._

She turned to face me (finally!), a small undecipherable smile on her lips. There was no tears. 'I wouldn't really care about what they say about me. And, besides, I can't feel pain.'

I rolled my eyes at her statement but I couldn't help but murmur, 'Feeling pain is different from being hurt, Tara. Well, maybe kind of. I know that you "can't feel pain" but you're still a person.' When she said nothing, I finally sighed. 'Look, I'm trying to help you here the best that I can but I'm not getting anywhere if you're just being silent all the time. I don't even know the whole story of why you are, well, you know. But, please, Tara . . .'_  
_

Her shoulders tensed and she rasped her nails again. But her smile was soft now and all I wanted was to tuck those stray strands behind her ear but I didn't. 'And so what if I say "I'm hurt"? It won't make a difference,' she said gently before shaking her head and staring at the city once more. 'Dad won't forgive me, people would think what they want about me and I still won't be allowed to go back and go home.'

I nodded my head at this. She was right. As much as I want her to believe that it will be alright, she was right. I . . .

'Yes, I'm hurt,' she said and I tried not to double-take.

'Tara . . .'

'I'm hurt. I want to cry. Wait, I already am for cheese's sake! I want to shout to the world that yes, they were right. But, I can't - or, rather, don't want to. There is no one who understands me. Who thought there was another meaning for my infamous quote,' she said, wiping her eyes painfully with the back of her hand. 'I don't know pain. Literally. I was born a CIPA* but everyone thought what I said was a metaphor to something. To my strength. And maybe it is. But . . .' her tears were back again and this time, I wiped them away. I gave her an encouraging smile and she replied with one of hers, albeit a little watery. 'But not emotionally and that's where they often strike, either consciously or not o direct or indirect.'

'You can tell them,' I suggested. 'If you tell them personally, they'll understand. People aren't really _that_ close-minded.'

A cruel laughter left her lips as she hugged herself. 'People are hypocrites. Always saying those quotes about not judging people easily but they themselves say the most grandest lies about someone they deem so unworthy of their respect.' She bit her lip. 'They're cowards.'

I laughed with her before pulling her into a hug. 'Yeah, you're right,' I murmured into her hair. 'But, you've gotta give it to me though, I'm not a coward.'

I heard her laugh. 'Yeah, you're not,' she said, once I released her. 'You're an idiot.'

'What?' I said, feigning hurt as I put an exaggerated hand on my heart. 'You wound me.'

She rolled her eyes. I smiled before I realized it was almost nearing dusk. 'Do you have anywhere to go?'

'No, I don't really know.'

'Then you could maybe stay in our place,' I offered. 'I know that our dinner party wasn't really a great success but I know Mom and Dad won't mind you staying.'

She flashed me a toothy grin and we started walking to her motorcycle. 'Nah, you've done too much for me today,' she said and I was about to protest when she quickly added, 'Besides,' she looked back at where we stood moments ago, her eyes showing longing, 'I have to talk to someone first.'

I nodded my head and gave her a thumbs up. Tara smiled. We stopped shortly after and she offered me a ride home but I declined politely.

'You sure?' she asked me, combing her hair with her fingers.

'Yeah, I need some time before I can go home, Mom's probably going to kill my ear,' I said, shrugging my shoulders. Tara nodded. I scratched my cheek. 'See you tomorrow?'

'Maybe not, but next time.' She walked towards her bike but stopped before she rushed and hugged me. 'Thanks again, Max, for everything.'

I returned her embrace and patted her head. 'Pleasure's all mine.'

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so it's more of friendship rather than romance, but oh well. Hope you enjoy! Please write any comments (but please no flames) and tell if I made mistakes. Thank you! :)**

**#**

**I don't know if you caught what Tara did but if you want a full story about it, just tell me.**

***CIPA - congenital insensitivity to pain. or other words, a disorder in which you can't feel pain. literally.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey, guys. So, here's chapter 3. I hope you enjoy this 'coz this made me tear up a bit. Hehe, yeah. Okay, anyway, you'll notice that there is no quote for the theme. I found some quotes that relate to title but I couldn't find one that actually suits the story. If someone knows a good quote, can you please PM me? Thank you. :)**

**This is AU, by the way.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the show.**

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**His Dark Empress, Part III**

"**Cheater"**

**By FrozenCreatures**

* * *

"Cheater."

The TV blared blinding light in the darkness of the room but their eyes were used to it now after so many hours of staying up that they don't mind their eyes stinging.

The younger of the two children, a boy of seven, looked at the nine-year old girl beside him, cocking his head to the side. "Huh?"

"Cheater," she repeated, motioning the young boy to look at the screen with a hand. "You just can't beat my score so you _had_ to cheat. Again."

Max twisted his head to look at the TV again before he feigned innocence. "Or maybe I just won and you lost?"

"Nah. You can't beat me with just steering and firing, you don't even know the secret codes yet!" she told him with a sure nod of her head. "Yup, you are a cheater."

He stuck out his tongue playfully and Tara punched him on the shoulders lightly. "Maybe you are the cheater. You win every game we play!"

Tara laughed. "It's called a gift, Max. Or that's what Cole would say."

It took a moment for Max to let this information register in his young mind, his eyebrows drawn together before he finally laughed with her. And, for maybe just a second, they ignored the television and the bright words flashing in the screen, _**Maxeemus the Greyt Wins!**_

* * *

"Cheater."

Max jerked his head up to meet the raised and amused eyes of his teacher. Which happened to be his best friend. Which was actually just Tara. Twelve year old little Tara with her short pixie-cut hair, her dark gray eyes and her old-knowing smirk. It was a little unnerving for the ten-year old Max but then again, she was Tara, she's always like that.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his shoulders tensing. Tara clicked her tongue, bent down, and picked the black pawn that rested at where her King had recently situated before it was knocked away.

"You can't place your pawn here," she said and she placed the pawn back to its square on Max' side. The boy opened his mouth to counter but she continued quickly. "And, no, I'm not being evil again. It's a rule in the game. You cannot just place a pawn which was there," she pointed at the square to his side, "over here." Point to the empty square on her side.

"But-"

"Cheater," she said, her lips curling into a fond smile. "You're _so_ cheating, Max. Playing 'innocent' won't save you. After all, I had been teaching you for _days_ and I heard that you almost beat Phoebs after our second class, so don't you dare say that you don't know the rules 'cause I am so going to hang you upside down."

"Oh."

Tara laughed, before she took her bishop and flicked the Black King away. "Checkmate."

* * *

"Cheater."

The summer sun was sweltering hot but Max was used to it. Hiddenville had that kind of effect on you anyway. Laughter cut through the silence he had been observing. He looked up. "Wha-?"

"Please, Max," Tara said, her long hair cascading down her shoulders as she sat down beside him. "I know about you and Courtney."

The almost-fourteen-year old teen nodded his head slowly. "Yeeaah . . ."

Tara rolled her eyes. "And I know your cheating."

He drew his eyebrows as he looked at the fifteen-year old teen. "What now?"

Tara pursed her lips as she narrowed her eyes. "Dude, you cheated." When he said nothing, she growled in frustration and slapped the beck of his head. "I know you didn't forget. About the bet. And I know you cheated."

Max' lips were a thin line but the side of his eyes crinkled with amusement. "Oh, now? Then please explain."

Tara groaned. "I know you, Max. And I know how much you don't wanna lose to this bet and Courtney knows you. She's my friend. Or, _was_ anyway. And the fact that I would give you my guitar if you have a girlfriend before I can even have a boyfriend was something she can't pass. After that . . . incident, I guess, she _hates_ me?"

"She doesn't hate you, y'know," Max said with a chuckle. "But, yeah, you're right. She did want your guitar and we both agreed to be together to win. But, still! I couldn't let you know who I like, you'll probably hate her anyway. And you'd win the bet easy if I waited for that girl to say she likes me."

"Okay, one: I wouldn't hate whoever it is you like 'cause, Max, that's your business - but I beg you, please find a girl who makes sense! And second: I don't get why I'd win," Tara said, two fingers raised to point out her reasons.

Max psshed. "Tamara Maya Campbelle, do you not look at the mirror?"

Tara made a face. "Please don't say my name like that, Maximus Bruce Thunderman. But, anyway, yeah, I do look in the mirror like, everyday, but isn't guys supposed to like . . . how do you call them, "preppy and cute girls"?"

"Well, I guess a lot of guys would but you aren't that ugly. Not really," Max joked. Tara stuck out her tongue.

"I hate you, Cheater."

"I love you too, Miss Trickster."

His heart thumped quickly when he saw her smile once more.

* * *

"Cheater."

The halls of Hidden High was filled by rushing students, their faces lit with excitement. It was the last day until Spring Break and all Max would think of is how he was going to rub his grades on Phoebe's face once he got home.

That is, until he heard the familiar voice.

He stopped and turned around. "Tara?"

"Look-y here, and I thought you forgot about me," the eighteen-year old teen said, pinching his cheeks. Max yelped and rubbed the sore spot once she withdrew her hand.

"You've been gone for, like, the last eight days of this sem," he started, "where'd you go anyway?"

Tara hummed as she shifted her bag a little higher. "I don't really know. Probably wound up somewhere south of Miami, didn't really cared about the name," she said absently. She shook her head. "But, I got home yesterday 'cause this hot dude I saw," Max tried to ignore the heavy feeling in his chest, "offered me a ride. Well, y'know me, I couldn't turn down an offer." Tara laughed.

"And I wonder what happened to that guy," Max grumbled. "Probably bleed his ears out of boredom."

Tara bumped his shoulder with hers. "Ha ha, funny, Max. But, you still didn't answer me."

The sixteen year old raised his eyebrow. "Which is . . ."

Tara groaned, before she shuffled the insides of her bag and fished out a white paper. Looking closely, Max could see that it was a copy of his grades. How she got a copy of his grades was something he wouldn't really try ask because that was just Tara but _why_ was a different matter. "As I said, "cheater"."

"I don't see anything weird here," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I think you're getting old, T."

She rose an eyebrow at him, her smile sly and secretive. Max awkwardly shifted a little away from her. He knew she was planning somethi- Ack!

Tara dove and opened his bag, swiftly taking the original copy out. She let him see both copies. "Any difference?"

And, of course, there was. Max didn't really need to look closely to know what she was getting at. The older of the two chuckled at his silence. She neatly folded both papers and put it in her bag, careful to separate real from hacked.

"Maximus, dude, it's cool," she said, ruffling his hair, much to Max' embarrassment. "I know how you feel."

Max grunted. "I doubt it."

"Oh, come on, don't be a sour puss," Tara joked and Max paled. She giggled at his reaction. "Really, though, don't be so serious. And speaking of serious, seriously, I perfectly know how you feel."

"Seriously?"

"Serious."

The friends walked on.

"But, seriously though, don't make a habit of changing your grades just 'cause you want to be better than your sister. It's . . . It's more uplifting when you know you've really worked hard for your grades instead of, well, you know," Tara said, a smile gracing her lips.

"Yeah, I know," Max replied. "But I'm not going to change mah mind."

"Yeah, doofus, I know," she laughed. He made a silent promise to not hack his grades unless needed to again.

* * *

"Cheater."

The sun was glaring down on them, making their body glisten. It was a hot summer day on the beach of Honolulu and the two friends had competed who could hold their breath underwater longer.

The Thunderman twin won.

Max only blinked at her then smiled smugly. "That's "Winner" to you, Loser."

Tara puffed her cheeks and splashed water at him. The action also affected her and Max tried not to stray his eyes . . . somewhere _dangerous._ "You only won because you were making those faces," she said as she crossed her arms.

"Hey! There weren't really any rules so how would I know?" he asked her, raising his hands in defense. That was actually true but isn't the whole story. Let's just say that he definitely hates the clothes Phoebe bought for Tara. Too, erm, _distracting._

She rolled her eyes. "I doubt it."

Max laughed and flicked his wrist at her, making droplets of water hit her on the face. Tara retaliated with a kick on the shin. He yelped.

There was a shift in the background and Tara looked before she grinned. "Come on. Lunch's ready."

Silence before they smiled slyly. It was Max who spoke first. "Last one's going to do the dishes!"

Tara laughed. "You are _so_ on."

After a pile of dishes - or nine - Max soon found out to **never** challenge Tara in a swimming competition.

* * *

"Cheater."

It was cold September with strong winds would blow at every direction, carrying snow in its wake. But it didn't stop the two troublemakers from going outside and just chill on the park.

But then . . .

Max' eyes widened, his young teenage heart stopped beating. He looked up, meeting the eyes of the twenty one-year old girl, and his breath hitched once he saw that smile on her face. "I . . . I don't understand."

She laughed at his face, flushed and all. Cute.

He stuttered awkwardly. "I - But, I - You - Wha- I . . . I kissed you!"

"I noticed," Tara said, her smile never leaving. "And you're such a cheater."

He scrunched his eyebrows. "What?" he asked, still trying to register what had happened. He kissed her, she didn't punch him but just . . . laughed. And called him a cheater. And not angry at him. And had just wrapped her arms around his neck. And is- wait, what?!

"You're such a cheater," she murmured softly. "I was supposed to be the one who'd kiss you."

His head spun and he wondered if he was hallucinating again. But, no. Max could feel her lips on his and she was too solid to be just an illusion. No, this was true. So true.

. . .

But it was still so mind-boggling. Even when her lips met his.

* * *

"Cheater."

Rain fell in small torrents.

"Cheater."

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"_Cheater._"

A comforting hand on her elbow.

"_Cheater!_"

Something pulled her elbow, trying to drag her into a shade. She stood her ground.

"Cheater . . ."

She heard the shouting of people behind her, trying to get her attention. She heeded them no attention but curled her hands into tight fists.

"CHEATER!" Tara shouted, her gray eyes bloodshot and her chest heaving as she panted.

It didn't move.

"Tara, come on! We need to go," Phoebe said, pulling the sleeve of the twenty-one year old's dress. "Y-You'll get sick . . ."

Tara slapped the Thunderman's hand away and, with her eyes in a fierce gaze, said: "I. Don't. Care." She shook the other hand of Phoebe off her shoulder. Tara vaguely heard someone talking to Phoebe but Tara didn't listen, only trying to calm herself and stop the tears from falling.

"Cheater."

But it was so hard not to cry.

Her knees buckled and she slid down to the ground. A sob escaped her lips. Then another. And another.

"Cheater."

Tara slowly hugged herself, and smiled. _Broken, watery, sorrowful smile._

"Y-You're such a cheater, you know that?" she sobbed out, her voice raised only slightly. He didn't answer. Of course, he didn't answer._ He's dead. _The Campbelle laughed, bitter and cold. "You're a fucking cheater . . ."

Silence.

Tara gritted her teeth. "Why'd you die first, huh? I'm supposed to be the one who'll die early, right? Didn't you say that before - that because I'm older than you I'm going to die years earlier than you and you'll be there to laugh and mourn for me? You stupid idiot, didn't you swear that that'll happen?"

She pursed her lips together. "You p-promised me that you won't die until you graduate college, until you married, got kids and then . . . You promised me, Max. Remember the consequence of breaking a promise? That you're supposed to - to do one dare?"

Tears welled up in her eyes. "I dare you to slap yourself."

. . .

"K-Kick yourself."

. . .

"Dance with Do-Doctor Colloso and post it on the i-internet."

. . .

"Make Phoebe cookies."

. . .

Her hands covered her mouth. "Kiss me . . ."

. . .

. . .

"Kiss me," she repeated, after swallowing a sob. "Please . . . I beg you just . . . give me a sign that you're just joking and you're just here, alive."

_Please._

But he said nothing. Just like the dead would.

And she hates it.

"You're really a che-cheater, aren't you, Max?" she weakly said, before she cried.

_Such a cheater._

* * *

**A/N: Bet you thought the story was different because of the title, didn't you? Haha, well anyway, I know the age thing is quite confusing but I know, for sure, that Tara is a couple of years older than Max. Give or take two to three years. But in this story, she's two years older (more or less anyway).**

**Please review and tell if there are mistakes or if you are confused about something. Thanks. :)**

**Stay tuned for the next oneshot! :)))**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Yes! I updated. Hehehe. Anyway, I was cleaning my laptop and found this file and was screaming when I found it. Probably woke the neighbors, hehe. This is originally Chapter 2 but then I couldn't find it until recently. Took a while to shape it up but I'm proud of what it became. Hmm, thinking to change genre into angst but I'm not sure what's the difference of angst and drama.**

**POV-Second**

**Disclaimer: I can barely buy a shirt, you think I could own it?**

* * *

**His Dark Empress, Part II**

"**Pain"**

**By FrozenCreatures**

* * *

_**"It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, th**__**e**__** mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone."**__** \- Rose Kennedy**_

* * *

You could still feel the large gnawing feeling in your chest, flaring ever so often. It would spread in your chest like a wildfire, and it hurt you, over and over again. It would stab you in the back in the most unexpected of times, stab you in the most unwanted times, stab you in the most hurtful of ways.

But, you would not yield.

It was years since you last saw her - since you had last contacted her. So many years since that _accursed_ day you hate so much, that day you _oh so_ wanted to bury deep down and forget about. That day when she had _left you without a word._

You felt a sudden emptiness in your chest. A scowl made its way to your face as you continued to walk, your strides long and strong as it carried you to your destination. The cold wind blew past you but you heeded it no attention, your mind elsewhere.

_Her smile. _You can still clearly see it in your mind. _Her scent._ You can still smell it, her subtle cologne lingering in every jacket you own. _Her laughter._ You can still hear it in the wind, tinkling gleefully, teasing you. _Her hugs._ You can feel her arms wrapping around you in your most loneliest of nights, her chin resting on your shoulder. _Her kisses._ You can feel her hesitant pecks and brief kisses lingering on your cheeks and lips, prickling your skin in the most pleasant yet unnerving of ways.

. . .

Your scowl deepened when you snapped out of your thoughts, your eyes narrowing from the fact that you, once again, thought of _her._ Your sister was wrong when she told you that, in time, you will forget about her and move on. That you would be fine in the future and finally see someone who was worth and willing to love you. Oh, how wrong she was, you realize. It seems that you _cannot_ make her presence leave you, even when you try to busy yourself vigorously with other things.

A small cold sensation dropped down and hit your face, sliding down your cheek after a moment, leaving a faint glistening trail. You halted, your face now tilted upwards, your brown eyes squinting from the harsh light that seemed to peek out from the gathering dark clouds. You ignored the painful jabs of elbows and stomping of feet, the foul mutterings of annoyed people fell on deaf ears.

You really did not care.

You realize that it was drizzling lightly and that the coldness you felt was a raindrop. Ironic, you thought idly, how the heaven now also mocks you, trying to imitate, if not already replacing, the tears that never dare fall from your eyes. You tutted, shaking your head to the side, _what did heaven know anyway?_

As if to reply, you felt the increasing number of raindrops pelting on you, the drizzle now turning into rain. Hastily, you looked at your surroundings for any signs of a temporary shelter, only to find the grocery store you were headed to was meters away from where you stood. Not really thinking much now, you ran towards it, pulling the hood of your jacket over your head. In a matter of seconds, you stood in front of it, waiting for the automatic sliding doors to open, before you rushed inside, relief washing over you-

But then you stopped, your eyes widening to almost an impossible feat. Instantly, relief had been squashed ruthlessly by another emotion, though it is more stronger than the first. No, much, _much_ stronger.

_. . . _

You tried to be incognito, tugging your hood lower down your face as you walked, but it was already too late. She had seen you and was already jogging towards you, the white plastic basket on her hand bobbing up and down, the contents inside a frenzied moving mess. Her voice, how angelic yet how devilish, called out, 'Max?'

A smile went to your face as you whirred around to face her, the curving of your lips so effortless and so flawless. You eyes were shut and if you had inspected closely, it was like an elongated upside-down "u", shielding and closing your hazel eyes that were quite vulnerable and open. 'Hello, Tara,' you said as you fluttered your now hooded-eyes open, your smile unfaltering. 'What a surprise to see you here.' You looked at her closely and found yourself doubling in slight surprise. Albeit, you don't know what you are actually trying to look for, you couldn't really not notice how she looked so, so . . . _her, _yet you know you could not un-notice the things that changed in her.

Her hair was shorter now, the tips just barely brushing her collar bone but they were still strawberry blonde and still straight. Her face was a pale peach, beautiful and smooth, but you could see the tell-tale signs of wrinkles just above her brows. You try not to look at her clothing, telling yourself that you have already noticed enough, but you cannot help but just take a quick glance. A long grey turtleneck shirt, black leggings with a small skirt of the same soft material, and maroon low-cut boots. Not really something that she didn't wear before, but you couldn't help but feel your unexpectedness surge in your veins. After all, you were used seeing her in leather and metals.

'Max,' she said breathlessly, and she looked flushed, 'I . . . Uhh, never thought I'd see you here.' You try not to roll your eyes at her statement, but cannot hide your left eyebrow from rising. You were thinking the same for her, and you said the thought out loud. And added, feigning (mocking) innocence, 'I mean, you never did tell me where you went, so how could I have expected you to be here in Hiddensville?' Then you shrugged casually.

She went silent, her gray eyes half-lidded as she bit on her bottom lip. You see her tug at the hem of her shirt, and you try not to raise your eyebrow again. That was new, you thought (she was actually suppressing herself!). Her eyelids fell and covered her eyes for a millisecond, repeating the action several times, and instantly, her unease vanished - but, no, you know it wasn't gone, she just masked it with her cool façade.

'A girl,' she started, and you crossed your arms against your chest, listening. 'Have any girl in heart?' The question was supposed to be light-hearted and casual and a signal of some sort and _God, _you know she wasn't trying to play with your feelings, but you couldn't help it. You can feel your rage and hatred towards her flare.

'Actually, yes,' you lied so indignantly and you saw surprise flicker in her eyes. Another flare surged its way to the pit of your stomach, writhing its way to your trachea then coiled itself around your heart, sending a heavy fluttering feeling shot through you. _Surprise? Really, Tara?! _'And I would worry her if I arrive late for our date, so, _please,_ excuse me.'

Your strides were long and your head was tilted high, almost resembling those "mean girls" in that favorite teen show your sister used to watch. Usually, you would roll your eyes at anyone who were like them - even mumbling expletives when you see them trotting proudly away with their nose in the air - but now you couldn't care less, even if you looked like some stuck-up bitc-

Something grabbed you by the arm, making you stop mid-walk. Quickly, you whirled around and snatched the hand that stopped you, then glared. 'What?!'

. . .

Pain throbbed in your cheek, and you stared at her, wide-eyed. Your hand flew to your stinging cheek, releasing her hand, making it fall back to her side. 'What was that for?!' you shouted. You can see her gnash her teeth together in pure frustration.

'What was that for?' she repeated. 'What was _that_ for?! Are you kidding me, Max?! Are you _freakin'_ kidding me?!' She breathed in deeply, her chest heaving. Her eyes were cutting, glaring, but it did not faze you - rather, it only threw fuel to your already wild fire. 'I'll tell you what that was for, _Max Thunderman._ Why are you acting such a prick?! Why are you so . . . _so COLD?!_'

'Oh, now _I'm_ the one whose cold,' you said, scoffing. Then you smiled, almost manically, then you bowed. 'Forgive my coldness, Miss _Tamara_. I so forgot that you're a _Campbelle_, a member of the most prestige family around-' You paused to look at her, your smile only widening once you see the tenseness of her shoulders and her uneasy shifting. 'I can't make you upset over my behavior now, that would be so rude of me. _Tsk. Tsk. _Silly me.'

She raised her hand to slap you again but you caught it before it can even land on your face. Your eyes narrowed more and your manic smile fell, replaced by a feral scowl. 'Cut that shit talk, Max. You know well enough that I'm not my parent's daughter-'

'Are you now?' you cut in, your voice hard and steely. Her eyes widened and she froze, her limbs tensing, her fingers trembling. You smirked. 'Hit a nerve, did I?'

_S-pack!_

'Fuck this! _Tell me, Max!_' her voice trembled with anger, annoyance and hurt, as she flailed her arms in the air. 'What happened that this is what you became?!'

'**You left me!'**

. . .

Your heavy-breathing was the only thing that broke the heavy silence that surrounded you. Your eyes burned on hers, and you tried not to think that it showed too much of your emotions, especially your sadness. Your left cheek tingled from the slap but it was fast to fade away that you didn't think much of it.

'W-Wait, what?' she said, her voice just barely a whisper. You can see her eyes flicker, her emotions warring inside her. Confusion, then understanding; rage, then regret. And hurt. 'So it's all about . . . that day . . .?'

You turned your back to her, only to see the crowd that gathered around the two of them. How you have not noticed them was beyond you, after all, you were always perceptive of other people's presence. You shook your head and continued to ignore them; they knew too much already, it's pointless to stop. Rumors and gossips must have already started this very minute, the important parts replaced by a false reason probably. But, you didn't care. Actually, you seemed to even _favor_ the idea of people getting the wrong idea of what happened, clearly, as you caught one murmur and another and _another_, they thought that you were a victim to her snares - which, actually is true.

'It was all about that day,' you said, not wanting to dwell on the sick truth any longer. You don't want to drown in self-pity, _not again. _'What else would make me _hate_ you?'

'I-I thought they . . .' she stopped and looked at the ground, her face thoughtful but it also showed regret. 'They didn't . . .'

'Look, Max, the reason I left was because my parents, they . . . they'd _hurt_ you and I won't - I _can't_. I-'

'It's too late for explaining, Tara,' you whispered. You felt suffocated all of a sudden. You can't breathe. You need to get out. 'This little meeting is over.'

You didn't wait for a response as you walked away, pushing people not too gently to get out of your way. You ignored their protest, you ignored their yelps. You ignored the feel of crumpled grocery list that was the only reason that made you get out of your apartment, but hadn't glanced for even a moment. You ignored the rain that fell, sliding down your face, your hair, your clothes-

No, you hadn't ignored it. You _tried_ but failed because you just can't. Why? It's because ... It's because it didn't mock you anymore. It's because you thought it was an old friend. It's because you couldn't get that image out of your head. Isn't it? It's because she made you cry again. Isn't it?

"Fuck this!" you say loudly. You can taste the tangy tears as you lick your lips. "Fuck this ..."

_Why do I still love you?_

* * *

**Love? Hate? There's something wrong? Well, please tell me. And if there's a theme you would like to suggest, you're free to tell me too. Well, bye for now! :)**


End file.
